


Mothers

by ghostburr



Category: Amrev - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6178682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostburr/pseuds/ghostburr





	Mothers

 

“What _was_ your mother like?”

Aaron’s black eyes swallowed the darkness around them in the small hotel room. Outside, the rain poured mercilessly, hard and then soft again, quick flashes of lightening peppering the velvet sky.  It was nearly 2am, though neither man knew the time.

Alexander stared back at him.

“Rather a strange question, don’t you think?”

He felt Aaron shrug, felt the sheets move.

The black-eyed man was curious, felt that the pervasive darkness allowed for freer conversation.

“She was pretty,” the Nevisian began softly, rubbing his eyes, “young. Long hair, a tinge darker than mine, if I can remember correctly. Wearing a big hat.”

Aaron smiled.

“She was always busy. Always up to something, always figuring out ways to help with our finances.” Alexander rolled onto his back, exhaled, and whispered. “She was never, ever, an idle woman.”

Aaron listened patiently, waited for more.

“She wasn’t classically educated. But she was _clever._ ”

The black-eyed man nodded in the dark.

“I _think_ she was beautiful, but I can’t precisely remember her face. More a beauty of the soul, I suppose. Like a feeling, a certain lightness I felt when I was around her. I believe she had that effect on people,” the Nevisian ran a hand through his hair and smiled briefly, “but I must not be making any sense.”

Aaron raised himself up on an elbow and faced his friend. “No, no. You are making perfect sense. Cherish the few memories you have of her.”

Quickly, the General turned his head to the side and immediately wished he’d held his tongue.

“I am being insensitive. I’m sorry, Colonel.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Alexander exhaled, flattened the blanket across his chest and looked around the small room, suddenly nervous.

“I only mean…” he faltered, “…You understand. Your situation…your parents having passed away so young—“

Aaron held up a hand as a gesture of forgiveness; his friend pressed on.

“No, no, I should not have been so forward.” Alexander lowered his voice. “I should not have spoken so freely of my own mother when yours was stolen from you before you had time to—“

“—You needn’t apologize, Alexander.” Absentmindedly, the Colonel reached for his glasses and cleaned them, giving his hands something to do, “It would have been harder on my sister and I had we a chance to form true bonds. One holds no nostalgia for a place he’s never been.”

The black-eyed man replaced his glasses; the Nevisian chewed on this thought.

“Still,” Alexander began cautiously, “you must feel something for her.” Quickly, he added, “It is not my intent to push you, Colonel, but even you must feel something.”

Aaron’s eyes grew wide, again, in the blackness.

  
“’Even me’? Whatever does that mean?”

“Well, you know. You’re,” the General exhaled, shoulders settling, “You aren’t one to exude warmth. You’re quite cold, to be perfectly frank, and I suppose I didn’t think someone like you could ever grow _noticeably_ nostalgic. But I assumed you had a small place in your heart for the woman who gave you life.”

The Colonel’s laugh was small and quiet, and he closed his eyes.

“Not everyone can be as open as you, sir.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“And besides,” Aaron talked over his friend, “You do not understand my family like I do. She was never far gone from my thoughts. Her presence was everywhere. In the books I read, in my sister’s laugh, that sort of thing. You understand.”

Alexander didn’t, but nodded yes regardless.  

“She was rather like the historical figures you and I are so fond of. The old Greeks and Romans. Dead, but still teaching.”

In  moment, there was little else but the sound of breathing as the conversation settled into the atmosphere around them. The rain slowed to a drizzle, and with soft taps hit the leaves of the trees outside the single window.

“I suppose, then, that is the difference between your mother and mine,” Alexander finally responded and cut the silence, afraid of it. “”Yours left you a legacy and mine…”

“…A different sort of legacy,” Aaron helped.

“Shame.” The word was sharp.

“You musn’t be so hard on yourself, Mr Hamilton, over things you cannot control.”

“They look at me and see my mother first, _obscene child_ , and then, perhaps, me.”

It was Aaron’s turn to exhale, his patience wearing only slightly, “You place far too much faith in your fellow man’s opinion of you, sir. Who cares what is said about you by men you’ve no reason to fear?” He turned on his side, straightened his loose white shirt, “Unless, of course, you’re in the market for positive opinions. You’re not thinking of _campaigning_ , are you?” Another small smile at the dirty word, and a slight chuckle.

“I have no need for that.”

“Of course not.”

“It has been much easier for you than it has been for me, making my way in this world.” The Nevisian took on a tone of indignation, and balled a fist against the mattress. “I _need men’s opinions_ , as you say, because I am my own product. I offer myself because I have no name, no family, no legacy to fall back on.”

The black-eyed man nodded smartly, eyes closed, “You are selling yourself. That, I understand.”

“What? No,” the Nevisian shook his head, “I said I _need_ men’s good opinions. Not _want_ them. But they are there, nevertheless. They exist. And it is within my power, so I hope, to correct the fallacious ones and cultivate the proper ones. But it is hard, you see.”

Aaron yawned, “Necessity is the harbinger of want. A man wants what he needs. But not always vice versa.”

“Now you are just being convoluted. You understand my underlying sentiment.” Alexander scratched his nose, “I mean to say that your name brings with it certain luxuries—certain luxuries that I have not been privilege to. I do not mourn this fact, make no mistake, but I am wholly aware of it. One need only read the papers to figure that out.”

He motioned loosely to the single desk in front of the window, strewn with papers, some torn and others completely unread. His hand fell to the side of the mattress as he sighed, “My mother, while giving me life, has given me with it a most painful burden.”

The black-eyes glared at him intently, washed over his features, taking each one in.

“You must not misunderstand me, Colonel,” Alexander continued, “I loved my mother dearly.” His eyes scanned the ceiling, brows furrowed in guilt. “We all must bear our crosses.”

“You mean to say that you want men’s good and proper opinions, as a thirsty man wants water. Not as a fashionable lady might want a hat, then.”

At this, the general’s face split into a grin and he laughed darkly to himself, “And _you_ place far too much faith in semantics, my friend.”

“I merely want to understand.”

“Picking apart my thoughts in such a manner as to disarm me. Your tactics are showing, sir.” Alexander yawned, reached behind him to fluff his pillow. “Save that diabolical genius for the courts. It has no place here.”

The General shifted himself once again in an attempt to get comfortable.


End file.
